


santa's baby

by cleverfics



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Cock Rings, Dildos, Flavored Lube, Harry in Panties, M/M, Panties, Secret Santa, Sex Toys, Sexual Frustration, Vibrators, i could put more tags but i think i'll leave it at that, lots of sexual activity but it's all in the name of christmas i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverfics/pseuds/cleverfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it all starts when harry suggests,<i> “so, christmas is around the corner, and i was thinking maybe we could change things up a bit? instead of gifts all around, we could maybe do secret santa?” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	santa's baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larrystomlinsons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrystomlinsons/gifts).



> yes, my title is a pun on the christmas classic, santa baby  
> yes, this work is filled with other terrible puns, perhaps worse and involving sexual euphemism  
> yes, i consumed approximately half a dozen bottles of wine throughout the making of this oneshot  
> yes, i am expecting you to forgive me
> 
> happy christmas larrystomlinsons!!!   
> and thank you kindly for this very creative prompt...though i'm not sure i took it down the road you were expecting me to take it, but nevertheless, this one goes out to you!

  Secret Santa.

  That is Harry’s great idea. Louis could kiss him. Louis _does_ kiss him.

  Louis had spent the better part of the last few weeks worrying, or stressing, rather, over what he’s going to get Harry for Christmas. It’s routine by now, really, as this happens every year. Louis and Harry have been together for three years now, and whenever the time of year to shop for Harry arises Louis is always, literally _always_ lost for thought. It wasn’t so bad before they were together, as Louis likes to think you can never go wrong with an itunes gift card, or say, a case of beer, for a mate. But a boyfriend? A _long-term_ boyfriend? You have to put fucking thought into that. And well, it works Louis up a little bit, okay?

  Harry invited himself into Niall’s hotel room, where Liam was already sprawled on the bed humming softly to the tune Niall had been strumming out on his Gibson acoustic, seated in the lounge chair by the window. “Hello lads,” Harry grins, entering the room of his own accord, pulling Louis in by the hand right behind him. There’s the sound of a toilet flushing and a doorknob creaking just as he asks, “Where’s Zayn?”

  “Fellas,” Zayn greets, walking past them and falling on the bed next to Liam. Niall sets the guitar down and pulls his legs up to cross them beneath himself. Harry’s got that _pay attention to me!!!_ look on his face, which is nothing new, so they all comply and make room for him and Louis on the bed.

  “So, Christmas is around the corner,” Harry begins. “I was thinking maybe we could change things up a bit? Instead of gifts all around, we could maybe do Secret Santa?”

  “And what we would have spent on the other gifts we can just add to our donations,” Louis adds in. He brings a hand up to twine his fingers in the curls at the back of Harry’s neck, his soft touches radiating with _fond_. “Genius, really. What do you say, boys?”

  “I’m game,” Zayn shrugs. Niall and Liam immediately agree, because, who can say no to that? “Are we going to draw names, then?”

  Harry is _so_ prepared, honestly. He reaches into the breast pocket of his partially undone shirt and pulls out little scraps of white paper, already folded up and correctly assumed by all to have their names already written on them. Then he just pulls the hat off Liam’s head, nothing that would draw too much of a fuss, and drops the papers into the cap before shaking it around and holding it out in front of…well, himself.

  “Youngest first, naturally,” he justifies, pulling a slip of paper out and making a show of keeping it folded and unseen before everyone has had a chance to pluck one from the hat. Niall is next, then Liam of course, and Zayn before the hat is finally outstretched in front of Louis.

  This is so great, Louis won’t have to fuss for another two months now until Harry’s birthday comes along. He’s really incredibly difficult to sh—

  Fuck. Of course, _harry_ is the only word he sees scrawled on his little slip of paper when it’s unfolded. Fuck. The world is playing a joke on him, right? Fuck.

  “Everyone good?” Harry asks, obviously meaning nobody had gotten themselves. Nods all around, Louis even throwing a probably incredibly suspicious thumbs up to him. Not that it really matters, because, well, Harry is somewhat oblivious to these things.

  In reality, yeah, nobody had picked their own name. Is everyone good though? Not entirely.

\--

  They arrive back in London and settle into their homes not too long afterward, and with only two weeks left to Christmas, Louis doesn’t even have that much time to continue worrying about what the hell he’s going to get Harry, because he has to actually start his shopping (which is just endless days of browsing, really), and try to come up with something for his boyfriend amidst the perfumes and dolls and jewellery he gets for his family with a simple with a swipe of his credit card.

  He tries Burberry first, looking at coats and hundreds of scarves, thinking about which ones would accent Harry’s head of hair so perfectly…but, of it’s a bit farfetched to think Louis would find something right off the bat. There are no scarf patterns that could accentuate anything _Harry_ , and he’s not about to buy him conflicting accessories. And do not even get him started on the shoulder pads in almost every. single. coat. he comes across. It’d be shameful to cover up the perfect balance between broad and arched that only Harry and the frame of his bloody perfect body can pull off without any garments of support.

  So, he tries a large department store next, looking for god only knows what. There’s got to be some sort of hipstery junk Harry would like there. Well, you’d think, anyway. Instead Louis is only left to peruse aisles of hair product and cheaply concocted and cloned clothing, and rows upon rows of dark chocolate covered goji berries in the organic cooking aisle. That doesn’t even sound realistic; what kind of recipe could possibly call for pre-chocolate covered gojis? Honestly, there cannot be that many.

  Louis makes his way to the shopping mall not too far from their house and wanders around aimlessly, but there seems to be no such luck for him there. He’s been in and out of clothing stores, antique shops, quaint little candle and incense stores, and even jeweller’s, but as far as he can tell there is nothing that sets this mall apart from any of the other places he has perused in search for a gift for Harry. Louis figures the problem, really, is that there just isn’t a place out there that has the perfect gift to give to him. What can you possibly get for the boy who already has everything in the world?

  Until he finds his saving grace. Or a place where Louis and Christmas shopping are in perfect harmony, rather. Literally, Harmony. That’s the name of the store. And there just happens to be a large _18 PLUS TO ENTER_ sign plastered on the window beside the store entrance.

  As soon as he walks in the store he is greeted by a woman in a sheer see-through shirt with very evident nipple pasties on her breasts beneath the material, and a skirt that frills out just past her behind and fishnet thigh-high stockings and 6 inch heels. Louis would like to see what the mens’ uniform is at this store. Maybe singing wasn’t the right career choice for him after all.

  “Oh,” the woman blushes. Her nametag says _Melissa_ in pink glitter with a small and slightly sloppy lipstick print beside it. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, and perhaps Louis should have thought twice about coming in here. His mind explodes at the possible articles that could leak, like, tomorrow. “You’re Louis, right?”

  “Ah, yes. Actually, if you don’t mind, Melissa, could we, um…”

  “I won’t say a word,” she says, and something about it is sincere enough for Louis to believe she won’t go gallivanting around London telling all of her friends with access to multiple social media sites that Louis Tomlinson of One Direction was out buying silicone cocks just two weeks before Christmas.

  “I owe you one,” he grins, and points to one of the walls sporting a collection of decorate sex toys. “I’ll just, um. Look around.”

  And now, okay, it’s not like he was _intending_ on losing himself in an X Rated shop, but nevertheless, the way it probably happens to many, he had become so fixated on certain objects from multiples aisle. And now he just can’t bear to part with, well, almost all of them. And with that being said, he also wasn’t intending on finding himself in the _Large Dildo_ section of the store, but here he is, face to face with a big black sign that says _Looking to play with the big boys?_ in an astonishingly innocent pale pink font. It is what it is. He’s got a silicone cock ring wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet, okay, it’s safe to say he’s probably going to pitch a tent here. A literal, actual tent that one could live in at the back of the store. The tent in his pants has already been pitched.

  He never thought this day would come, but it seems as though his qualms about what to get Harry have been settled, but he has a new dilemma he’s facing now: _how the fuck is he going to choose which one_?

  He decides to think about this rationally. Secret Santa can make him a fucking gift basket of naughty things if he wants, so it’s completely justifiable to throw all of this stuff up on the counter, swipe his card, and get home to do some much needed and poorly done giftwrapping. Or. _Or_. He could just get him one small thing for the couple days leading up to Christmas, and on big day number three he’ll thrust a grand surprise on him.

  He’s juggling everything in his arms when he attempts to make his way over to the check out counter, but he feels something slide down his forearm and has an internal panic attack as a set of _beaded fucking nipple tassels_ falls to the floor and he tries everything in his power to save himself from embarrassment, but there he is, crimson cheeks, knees buckled in on each other, and two armfuls of sex toys.

  “Everything okay?” Melissa asks, letting out a giggle at the absolutely mortified look on Louis’ face. “Need some help?”

  “Yeah, in finding my dignity,” he mumbles, straightening himself out and setting all of the stuff he’s holding on the counter in front of her. “Need some advice, though, if that’s okay?” He receives a nod. “So, I’m looking for some things that you can use with a partner, but can also be used by y’know, yourself.”

  “Solo toys can be used both by yourself or with a partner. And from what I’m seeing you do have some good picks here that fit the requirements. However, unless you’re _really_ flexible I don’t think the candy love ring can be used effectively by yourself,” Melissa laughs, holding up the box. It’s a cock ring, but made out of candy, like those necklaces made of strung hard candy that even Louis himself used to wear as a child. He’ll be wearing this one now, but he probably won’t be the one nibbling the candy off the string.

  “I can’t really part with that, no matter its use,” Louis blushes, and, well, it’s understandable. Who doesn’t want someone to lick and bite candy off an elastic around their cock.

  Melissa raises her eyebrows at him proudly, before scanning it through for him to purchase. “Candy love ring it is. And how about these?” she asks, holding up a box that holds a pair of unmistakenly _adult_ undergarments.

  Louis nods, unabashed. “The vibrating panties are a must.”

  She rings those two in as well. “So how many things are we still looking for?”

  “One, I think,” Louis mumbles, but he’s caught slightly off guard by the huge fucking lightbulb that goes off in his head. He continues quite decidedly, “Plus a pair of handcuffs. Yes, I definitely need to get a pair of handcuffs.”

  Melissa turns around on the other side of her counter where there just happens to be handcuffs displayed on the rack behind her. “You’re in luck. While fuzzy or leather can definitely do no wrong themselves, I’m a firm believer that classic is always the best choice,” she tells him, grabbing the classic silver cuffs from the rack and placing them on the countertop for Louis to look at. Yes, this is definitely what he needs.

  “Please ring those through,” Louis Tomlinson is not ashamed to beg. “And for the last one I’ve got something here that I’ve had in mind, but I think I need your expertise.” She straightens her shoulders out and lets him know that’s what she’s here for. He decides to face his inquiry head on. Why not? This lady has already seen him buy vibrating panties and a candy cock ring. Dignity is a thing of the past. “I need a dildo with vibrating capabilities. Preferably ribbed and specifically for anal.”

  “Is this the one you had in mind?” She asks, pulling clear packaged anal vibe from the pile still on the counter. Louis nods. “I had a customer come in last week just to tell me how much he loved this one. Trust me, you picked well. Rated 5 stars.”

  “Perfect, I’ll take that, then. I’m sorry about the rest of the mess I’ve left here, but. I think I’ve got everything I need,” he says, pulling a nervous smile and clapping his hands together softly.

  “I’ll take care of it. Would you like to throw in flavoured lube? They’re on sale, 3 for 2.”

  He doesn’t have the willpower to say no, so he picks out a bottle of strawberry, chocolate (though how good that one will taste is very questionable), and passion fruit. Louis didn’t even know they _made_ passion fruit flavoured lubricant, but here he is buying a bottle of it. Along with fucking handcuffs. This day has taken a bit of a turn from where he thought he’d be this afternoon.

  She rings those through too and checks him out, and soon Louis is leaving with a large sized bag that says _Harmony XXX_. Okay, so, maybe Melissa doesn’t have to worry about keeping a secret, because the bag itself will give him away. She wishes him happy holidays, and he’s gone, officially done all of his Christmas shopping, finding he’d worked himself up a bit too much for something he was able to get through. God bless Harmony.

\--

 And on the first day of Christmas brought to Harry by Secret Santa, or _S.S._ as the card states, he finds a bag left on the corner of his bed that’s overflowing with red and green tissue paper. _That’s a bit strange_ , Harry thinks, _Christmas isn’t until Thursday_. He shrugs.

  “This has got to be a joke,” Harry mumbles, tossing aside some of the tissue paper and finding a _candy love ring_ and 3 bottles of flavoured lube.

  All of his friends are arsholes. Truly, the absolute definition of an arshole. The problem is he’s not sure which arshole decided to get him a candy cock ring and lube, because, well, it could have been any of them. He shakes his head with a bit of laughter, throwing what is presumably a gag gift into the bottom drawer of his nightstand.

  “Fine, get me a joke gift. When I use it though, it won’t be a joke,” he says out loud, smugly, and to himself. He digs a little deeper to pull out the last piece of tissue paper, and, well. _Oh_ , he thinks, _that could be interesting_.

  While still believing it’s most likely a joke, Harry also becomes a bit curious, holding the packaged silver links in his hand. He’s never used handcuffs before, in the bedroom or otherwise, and really, he shouldn’t be turning down any opportunities to experience another first time for something, _anything_ , especially while he’s still young enough to get away with it.

  His mind is telling him to toss those in the drawer too, because this can’t be real. But for some reason that doesn’t sound so bad, and, well, his dick is telling him to try the handcuffs out on himself. Break them in, if you will. If it turns out to be fun maybe he’ll use them with Louis. Maybe his arsehole of a Secret Santa is going to have his plan backfired on himself.

  So, yeah, with nervous fingers, Harry peels back the plastic from the cardboard of the handcuff packaging, and pulls out the silver cuffs. He links one around his right wrist, but before clasping the other wrist in he thinks to undress himself, the cold metal of the dangling cuff grazing over his newly exposed thighs. He positions himself on the bed so he’s on top of the sheets, with the pillows scattered in different places on the mattress top, and then he reaches behind himself to lock his other wrist into the handcuffs behind his back. He can feel the length of his cock on his bare thighs, and he begins arousing himself.

_What would he do if he could use his hands?_

_What would_ Louis _do if he were here, using his hands?_

  Nipples, definitely start with the nipples. He would suck his bottom lips between his teeth and circle his nipples with the pad of his fingers, and let his hands begin to wander south.

  He would graze gently over the skin where his thighs meet his hips, because _god_ Harry is so sensitive in the groin area, he loves, absolutely fucking _loves_ being touched there. Sometimes Louis calls him greedy; the way he’ll thrust himself forward to regain contact, to have Louis touch him there some more.

  He would have bruises bitten and sucked into the soft part of his thighs, where Louis’ teeth are favourable to. The bites hurt; they hurt in the most sinful of ways, where the shock of pain sends pleasure right to his cock—his cock that is definitely not lying between his lights anymore.

  If Harry could use his hands he’d touch himself everywhere. He would encircle his cock in his palm and pump quickly down the shaft, but also buck his hips up until he’s not sure which part of him is really doing the work anymore, but it doesn’t matter because his grip is getting tighter and the pressure on his thick veins makes him feel like he’s going to explode.

  With his other hand he would pull on his hair (Louis’, if he were with him), he would splay a palm over his sweaty abdomen, he would stick his fingers in Louis’ mouth, dig crescent marks into his hips. Harry would use that hand to run over his bare bottom, fingers teasing the rim of his hole, threatening to slip a finger into himself at any moment.

  _God_ , Harry thinks, unable to form the word from his mouth but letting a moan slip past his lips. He’s thinking, thinking so fucking vividly what he would do. He’s lying flat on his back with his hands beneath him, his legs spread open and his shoulder blades digging into the mattress. His cock his hard, flush with his belly, threatening to spill over the laurels near his waist. He’s no longer thinking coherently, unable to process anything going on in the real world around him.

  “F-f-fuck, o _o_ h, fuck,” he whines, flipping himself over so he’s on his side, all his weight baring on his right shoulder, and he kicks a pillow up between his legs. _Success! Fuck yes_ , he thinks, shimmying it up further until the soft down is pressed up against his dick and he thrusts himself into the pillow, his hips moving in a way he himself finds enticing.

  He thinks if he were with Louis, if it was his thigh tangled between Harry’s own legs, he’d be rutting up against his impossibly soft bronze skin. He would be parallel to his neck, be able to bite down on his collar bones, all while feeling the friction of his lover’s leg rubbing against his cock, building up, up, _up_ until Harry’s so, _so_ fucking sure he’s going to burst.

  He ruts himself against the pillow steadily just a few more times until he’s letting out a cry and shooting white onto the pillow and the mattress, getting it on himself when he shimmies over. He lays there for a few moments, the tightness on his wrists aching, the laboured breaths coming in and out of his chest feeling like a reward, and half his face pressed into the blankets with his bum in the air decidedly being the best way to process such an exceptional orgasm.

  After a bit, hot and naked, and lathered in spunk, he manages to get off the bed with his hands still cuffed behind his back, and grab the key from the package and free himself from his confines. He rubs the redness on his wrists, the pain still spiking a bit of pleasure through his veins, and makes his way out of the bedroom to the shower. He feels dirty in the best way possible, and yes, he’s going to have to wash the sheets now, but it was completely fucking worth it.

And yes, it is decided he’ll be using the handcuffs with Louis.

\--

  And on the second day of Christmas brought to Harry by Secret Santa he figures the Santa already isn’t so Secret anymore, but he’ll play along just to see how all of this turns out. By this point he’s no longer curious, and doesn’t hesitate to try out the toy he finds bagged on the corner of his bed that afternoon.

  Santa leaves Harry a note this time that says “ _the gift that will keep on giving. put these on, and do NOT take them off until you are done. i have the control. S.S._ ” and Harry digs into the expectedly tissue filled bag and digs around until he finds a rectangular box with an obscene packaging design. “Neon pink vibrating panties,” Harry deadpans, gaping at the box, his eyes narrowing in on where the tape from the seal has been removed and the corner of the close flap has been bent back. He opens that side now himself, emptying the contents of the box and finding just like he had been told, a pair of pink panties with a vibe pack in the front (already filled with the necessary batteries; Louis doesn’t fuck around) and no remote control. Fuck.

  It takes his mind a stall of like, three quarters of a second before he realizes he is subconsciously unbuttoning his pants and it becomes completely intentional when he pulls his jeans down his thighs until they slip to the floor completely and he’s kicking them off. Underwear next, but he fumbles the elastic and it snaps back against his skin before he can properly tug them off, the sting jolting through him stupidly sharp.

  These tiny neon pink panties are the kind with open ended waist straps that you tie around your hips to your preferred tightness, so Harry slips the fabric between his legs, the g-string sliding against his bum until sitting perhaps _too_ comfortably up there, and the triangular front with the powered up vibe pack sewn into it is a bit small, but he manages to arrange himself so he is fit nice and snug within the cloth. He’s about 127% sure if the vibrator is activatedhis dick is going to either push itself right through the material or fall out the side, but, he supposes he’ll cross that bridge when he finds out just how strong this vibrator really is.

  He takes a look at himself in the floor length mirror in their bedroom, placing a palm on the round of his bare bum and snapping this elastic against his waist now too, having the same stinging pleasure on his hot, needy skin. He turns and tightens the strings on both hips until he’s positive he cannot tie them any tighter and decides against snapping them again because maybe, just _maybe_ , he’ll end up getting himself off before the panties can even do their job. He makes a mental note not to touch the straps on his hips anymore, letting his fingers instead follow the seam until he’s outlining the triangle of neon pink that encases his cock tightly, the thick outline of his shaft just as visible as the bulge of the head pressing to be free from its restraint.

  He knows it’s a bad idea, okay, but he can’t help it, he really can’t. Harry doesn’t think there has ever been a time in his life that he’s more wanted to touch himself, or at least a time when he’s had less self-control than he does right now. It’s just, well, he looks so fucking _pretty_ where he sees himself in the mirror, the pink around his hips and through his cheeks and pressed so _so_ tightly against his crotch. His large white t-shirt is off centre, the scoop neck exposing his collarbones to the left and the ink in that space, and one of his milky legs are crossed over the other in a way that just makes his skin look so inviting and touchable, and _god_ does he want to touch and be touched. Despite knowing though, he indulges himself momentarily, letting his hands skim over his upper thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers into the sensitive skin until he’s sure he’ll have shadow bruises there later, and moves on to palm over his cock with one hand and runs his other up the hem of his t-shirt, the material bunching up at his wrist as his fingers splay out against the base of his abdomen and he thrusts himself forward so his bulge meets his hand.

  He knows if he doesn’t stop now though that he will not stop until he builds up enough friction between himself and the material to get himself off, and he doesn’t want to get too carried away, a bit more than excited about what Louis has got coming for him later, pun fully intended, so he stops himself after palming himself over a couple of times, and rearranges the hard on he’s got beneath the opaque pink panties until he’s well-adjusted within them. He finds his trousers on the floor, and spends the rest of the day with enough blood continuing to pulse to his greedy, _needy_ cock to sport a semi the entire time.

 

  Really though, he should have been expecting the worst of it to come at the most inconvenient time, because if he knows Louis, which he does, he knows that there is nothing he enjoys more than seeing Harry flustered and worked up, rosy cheeked and struggling to breathe evenly. He knows Louis just loves the way his eyes glaze over, his limbs knock into each other, and the way he squeezes his eyes shut and bites on his bottom lip, desperate to regain the control over himself that had been so quickly snatched from his fingertips.

  But of course, he wasn’t. So, because it’s his birthday, Louis has demanded pizza for dinner, and Harry finds himself answering the door to welcome the delivery boy and gather their dinner with a sort of victorious smirk to his face, unbeknownst to him that he’s about to hit a rock bottom of sexual frustration he didn’t even know existed.

  It’s shockingly quiet when it does go off, and Harry doesn’t even want to think about just how much worse the situation could have been if it were an audible vibration, spiking pleasure up his cock and through his veins while the battery pack were to rattle or something of that terrifying nature.

  Instead what does happen, a memory that will be incinerated into Harry’s mind for the rest of his fucking life, is just as he outstretches his arms to grab the hot pizza box from the gangly teenager that had been allowed through complex security, he freezes up just as the boy lets go of the box thinking it’s safely in Harry’s grip (which it is inherently not), his knees buckle in on each other and he begins to feel all of his weight on his feet float away like it was possible that he’d begun to fly. His hips twitched with his cock and had the pizza boy not reached out, Harry’s currently dysfunctional self would have dropped their dinner catastrophically.

  His eyes roll back and he feels a sound try to rip itself out from the back of his throat but he manages to swallow it down and without falling over, lean to the side of the door, gripping the doorframe harder and harder until his knuckles turn a shocking shade of white. He’s just about positive he has never experienced this kind of sinful pleasure before, each pulse of the vibrator making him weaker and weaker.

  “Uh-hhgh,” he breathes, “sorry, I, um. L-Louis—Lou, please, uh—ah. Shit.”

  “Need something, babe?” Louis asks, with the most innocent of faces, as though he’s _completely fucking unaware_ of the god damn orgasm building up inside Harry right in front of some poor sod. Harry looks at him so fucking desperately, momentarily regaining control of his eyes and focusing them on Louis, silently begging him to take care of getting their stupid fucking pizza. The delivery boy looks extremely confused, his brows pulled sharply to a point above the bridge of his nose. Louis smiles at him, “Here, let me.”

  Louis grabs the pizza.

  And then walks away.

  Leaving Harry at the door still with the pizza boy and indefinitely vibrating panties oscillating against his obscenely hard cock.

  Harry manages to keep his teeth barred and stay quiet as he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, pulling out fifty quid and handing it to the boy. “Keep the ch-change,” he stutters, and as soon as the boy thanks him and closes the door behind himself on his way out Harry lets out all the whines he has kept bottled in since he answered the fucking door, leaning back against the wall and sliding all the way down until he’s sat on the floor, knees pressed to his chest and his shoulder blades digging into the wall behind him.

  He is so, _so_ fucking close to spilling all over the pretty pink panties when it just…stops. Suddenly there is no powerful vibration against all of his sensitive places, there is not tingling feeling jolting through his entire body, no reason to clench his fists or squeeze his eyes shut. And he _wants_ it. Now that the feeling is gone he’s fucking hungry for it, or _starving_ , really. He wants it back so badly, wants to feel that way again. Fuck. He hates Louis.

  “You coming for dinner?” Louis asks, peeking his head around the corner to find Harry still sitting in the entryway folded in on himself with his hands between his legs.

  “I hate you,” he grumbles, and that is the only time that even he gets a reaction out of Louis, as he slips up for a fraction of a second and begins to smirk. He stops his lips from twitching up any further and turns back for the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza, thinking about how much Harry is going to hate him even more so later on.

 

  It’s while he’s sleeping, and Harry should have seen it coming, _again_ , as he had left the panties on as per his Secret Santa’s noted request, and climbed into bed wearing nothing but the tiny piece of pink cloth and a pair of black boxers overtop. He had not finished yet, so he was just following the rules. But _good god_ did the near constant pulsing between his legs make him wish he had. Louis, that sly little fucker, hadn’t so much as even indulged him in a kiss that would last more than a couple of lingering seconds. It was one of those quick pecks and he was gone, the lights were turned out, and he’d dozed off instantly, claiming he’s _getting too old to keep up with Harry’s young self, and the Kardashians, too, probably_.

  Louishad kept the control in the top drawer of his nightstand though, and set a fucking alarm on his cellphone so he could get up, and then get Harry _up_ in the middle of the night. It’s one of his most diabolical plans yet, he’s sure.

  Except, when Louis’ soft set alarm goes off and he opens his eyes Harry is breathing heavily in his sleep next to him, hot breath hitting Louis’ neck like a routined pant. He’s lying on his stomach, hips arched, and then _snapping_ so his groin digs into the mattress. Harry’s got his right hand knotted in the sheets, gripping them until his knuckles turn white, and his left hand explores the bed beside him in a desperate search for Louis’ skin. If he’s being honest, Louis could probably get off just watching Harry this frantic and horny in his sleep, rutting his cock into their bed like the friction is his last lifeline.

  While Louis likes to play games, especially to tease Harry, he also shows a bit of mercy once in a while, this time by powering the vibrating panties on and clutching the control in one hand while grabbing Harry’s still searching hand with the other. Harry pulls himself closer to Louis, his eyes still shut tight, and presses his bare chest against Louis’, slotting their bodies together in the night. Harry’s mouth finds Louis’ shoulder and he bites down, his teeth sinking into his lover’s flesh as his hips buck forward and his hard cock grinds into Louis’ upper thigh.

  “ _Louis_ ,” Harry hisses in his sleep, before pressing multiple chaotic kisses to the bite marks he’s left on him. “ _Louislouislou-ah-islouis_ —”

  Louis brings a hand up to pet Harry’s hair, tangling his fingers in the tufts at the back of his neck, giving him all the reasons he needs to wrap an arm around Harry, bringing them even closer, and he pushes his leg between Harry’s, the heat of their bare thighs burning to the touch in the best possible way beneath the blankets. He begins to circle his hips up and then into the mattress, just slightly out of sync with Harry’s own thrusts, so there is constant pressure hitting the boy he loves in all the right places.

  “So beautiful,” Louis accidentally says out loud, but god is it true. Watching Harry unfold like this and become such a mess for him really gets Louis going, and at this point he is unable to do anything but throw all his self-control out the window. Harry’s tonguing over the bruise he’s left on Louis’ arm—in his fucking _sleep_ —and his lips are bitten, cheeks rosy, and fingernails catching in the threads of their sheets. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, each rut of his hips against Louis’ thigh in perfect practice, angled out to attain as much friction as he’s allowed.

  “So, so beautiful, baby,” he says again, this time with intent as he pulls his hand from Harry’s hair and strokes his cheek gently to rouse him, “let me finish this for you, okay?” And his hand dips below the sheets and past the waistline of the pants Harry’s got over top of the panties, and Louis cups Harry, hard as ever, in his hand (or as much as he can fit in his hand, anyway) fondling him carefully. Harry’s eyes flutter open just as Louis stretches his fingers to let them wander further over his balls, teasingly, of course, as with a flick of his wrist he’s stroked him over the cloth and moved so the palm of his hand now cradles the base and he circles the head with the pads of his fingers.

  “Lo _uis_ , _fuck_ ,” he breathes, his body contracting as a tightness grows in his abdomen, scorching pleasure hot like fire chasing down his every last nerve ending.

  “I’ve got you,” Louis assures, continuing to fondle him over the panties as Harry’s fingernails run down his back, his hips thrust further up into Louis’ hand, and a whine escapes from the back of his throat. Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead, letting his lips stay there as Harry comes, a sticky white mess in his briefs as it leaks through the incredibly thin, opaque panties.

  Louis lets Harry take his time gathering himself and pulling the world back into his grips so he’s able to put two feet on the ground and make it to the bathroom, and takes his time cleaning Harry up, both of them careful not to mention a thing about Secret Santa, and then Harry lets Louis cart him off back to bed.

  “Here,” Louis says, offering the vibe control over to Harry. His voice is light with a hint of laughter behind it. “I think you’ve earned this for yourself.” And he presses a quick kiss to his cheek and whispers g’night against his skin.

\--

  Christmas morning Harry wakes up next to Louis, as per usual. There’s a remote control on his nightstand that hits him with a tidal wave of sleep fogged memories at just the sight of it, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that because Louis’ blinks himself slowly awake in the heat next to him and he’s got a whole new round of memories that flood his world until he feels like he’s drowning and the only source of oxygen nearby is Louis’ lips. He tastes like sleep, long over the bitter taste that comes with morning kisses, and yes, Harry feels like he can finally breathe again.

  “Happy Christmas Lou,” Harry whispers, placing another kiss to the corner of Louis’ lips.

  “Ditto,” Louis says, his voice thick and scratchy with sleep. If this were any other morning Louis would have wrapped an arm around Harry, the heat of their biceps melding together instantly on contact, tracing patterns into Harry’s bare back. But on this particular morning he has plans that supersede spending the next half an hour almost completely motionless in bed. “Shall we get to it then?” He asks, peeling the covers off himself and getting out of bed with minimal regret.

  When Harry comes to his side of the room, he reaches out, letting the pad of his thumb slip over the bruise he’d left on Louis’ shoulder the night before. Harry’s got that look in his eyes, the one where he’s gleaming and all but bursting at the seams after marking up Louis’ body, as if each mark on his skin is a stamp in his passport to indicate every part of Louis’ body he’s visited.

  “Should be proud of yourself for that one, love,” Louis jokes, and Harry just waggles his eyebrows at him because he fucking _is_.

  They end up having breakfast, one in charge of making tea while the other pops toast in and out of the toaster, and after they finish they drop their plates in the sink and brush their teeth side by side. When Harry says he’s going to take a shower, Louis sees the pieces of his plan fall into place without even having to do the work.

  “Are you coming?” Harry asks, reaching for a second towel. Louis tells him he’s going to call his mum; that he’ll just shower after, and Harry pushes the towel he’d taken off the rack back. “Suit yourself.”

  Louis can hear the water running and see the steam from the shower crawl out the bathroom door Harry left a crack open. He figures he’s got about ten minutes before Harry comes out here, back to their room clad in only his towel—Louis’ favourite way to see him, if he’s being honest. Which he is.

  He doesn’t waste any of his precious time, getting right to it. Should he undress first? Or would it be weird setting out Christmas gifts naked? _It’s a fucking dildo_. Right. So he strips.

  He shoves the package in the bag, fluffs and crumples a bit of tissue paper in there (the best—and only, really—kind of wrapping he is capable of doing) and sets it where it belongs at the corner of their bed. He goes to lay down, but figures he still has a moment or two to fuck around, as Harry is still belting out the lyrics to whatever nonsense song he’s singing while he washes his hair. Sigh. Lather, rinse, repeat. Because Harry is probably the only person who walks the earth to actually repeat. Louis decides he’ll light a candle in the meantime. When he’s run out of things to do to keep himself busy Louis decides to swear that he’ll contact every single shampoo manufacturer out there and bribe them with hopefully minimal coercion to stop fucking instructing their consumers to repeat. His fucking sex life depends on it.

  He’s spread out on the bed, bronze skin, thighs on satin bed sheets, cock flush; beautifully on display, and can easily be mistaken for Adonis. But of course leave it to Harry to walk into the room while he’s rearranging himself, caught trying to un-lodge a pillow from behind his rear. “ _Voila!_ ” Louis jokes, his fingers jumping out into jazz hands of their own accord.

  If it weren’t for constantly being the reason it happens (and usually getting to witness it in the making…bless), Louis probably wouldn’t have noticed the way Harry’s dick twitches just upon his first sight, growing harder beneath his towel with each passing moment that he continues to stare at Louis on display for him.

  “Think it’s time to open your final gift?” Louis asks, his soft fingertips trailing up his thigh until his palm finds the shaft of his cock, and he strokes himself slowly, lazily, while watching the look on Harry’s face contort from aroused, excited, confused, to aroused again. His fingers circle the base and begin to glide back up again before Harry registers that there is, in fact, another gift bag for him on the mattress. Turns out that even after acknowledging it, he doesn’t fucking care.

  “If I don’t kiss you right now I might die,” he deadpans, “and you don’t want to kill me before I get my present, do you?” He drops the towel to his ankles and shortens the distance between them with two drastically sized strides.

  “Bit melodramatic, don’t yo—” and he’s being smothered by a pair of lips so familiar they might as well belong to him, his grip on his cock tightening, stroking now with intent. Harry doesn’t let him get away with that for long, though, grabbing his wrist and pinning both his arms above his head with one hand and taking his place to stroke down his shaft with the other. “Harry, babe. Ha _rry_ ,” Louis pants into his neck. “Harry, seriously.”

  “What…?” He asks, letting Louis’ arms free to brush the hair out of his eyes.

  “Open the fucking gift before I come and ruin it.” It’s not so much as he’s asking this of him as he is demanding. Harry’d forgotten about that bit, actually. He lets his hand linger over Louis, so he’s stroking him one last time on the way up as he pulls off, and cups his face in both of his hands, kissing him hard and closed mouthed. Yeah, he needed that.

  “While I feel like you’ve done a fantastic job, but I can’t help but feel you took this as an opportunity to also gift yourself, as well,” Harry says, alluding to the candy cock ring he can’t wait to pull out. “But, so far you’ve done well. Topped last year’s wool socks and that gaudy picture frame.”

  “I may or may not be offended,” Louis pouts, luring Harry back in to kiss it away.

  “Louis, that was the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Just look in the god damn bag, Harry,” he snaps, grabbing it from beside himself and shoving it at Harry so he’s got an armful of silicone cock in a bag. And so Harry lets his shoulders cave, giving in, and for the final time he pulls out all the green and red tissue paper until he’s met with a plastic package that reads _LARGE 8.5”-BLACK ANAL VIBE DILDO NEW:WATERPROOF!_

  “Holy shit,” Harry says.

  “I mean, it’s no _prostate tickler_ , but.”

 Harry ignores the comment, trying to pull the package apart with his bare fingers, tips turning red against the clear plastic casing. No, he is not above using his teeth, if that’s what it takes. He’s considering bringing it up to his mouth but Louis reaches behind him, golden round of his bum on display as he reaches for the scissors strategically placed on the nightstand to prevent _jaws_ over here from having to bite through the package. Louis snips through the plastic and pulls out the dildo with utmost precision, like he was born solely for this moment, and pulls out a package of batteries he had wedge beneath on of their pillows, and presents them to Harry like he’s never been more satisfied with himself in his entire life. “I’ve saved the best for last, Harry. This gift comes premeditated, as will you.”

  “Ha _ha_.”

  “Right, so. I want to fuck you with this, Harry,” Louis says, tapping the phallic object to his boyfriend’s nose. “I want to fuck you with this, while I suck you off. If that’s okay with you.”

  “I’m going to be seriously upset if you don’t,” he consents, placing a hand on Louis’ side, his fingers splayed out over the curve of his ribcage as he pulls him in, their lips slotting together as Harry pulls Louis’ bottom one between his teeth and pulling sensually to indicate he wants him closer. He lays Louis down on the bed, one of his thighs between both of Louis’, and their cocks brushing together in the proximity between them.

  Louis doesn’t let much time pass like that before he’s flipping them over so he’s atop of Harry, on hand braced so his thumb presses into the dip above Harry’s pelvic bone and the other tucked under his shoulder. He presses kisses along his collarbone until he gets to the hallow of his neck, sucking the skin there into his mouth and leaving a mark he’s sure will amuse him for a few days to come. When he pulls off he thumbs over it, his fingers placed gently over Harry’s pec, feeling the feather-light flutter of his quickening heartbeat.

  “You got that flavoured lube?” Louis asks, only half joking until he sees the serious look on Harry’s face when he tells him it’s in the drawer. When he finds it he also pulls out the candy cock ring, and decides he’s going to eat it off Harry, right fucking now, and rips that from the wrapper after deciding the strawberry lubricant is probably the safest flavour, and grabbing the bottle.

  He crawls between Harry’s opened legs, wraps the candy strung elastic around Harry’s cock, and presses a kiss to the soft skin where Harry’s thigh meets his groin. He lets his nose nudge against his shaft, and _god_ he knows he’s desperate for the friction because he shifts his hips down so he’s in contact with Louis again. Louis’ pretty sure eating the candy from around the base of his fucking cock is teasing enough, so he goes right from that to nibbling on a little blue candy bead, the elastic pulling into his mouth until the hard candy cracks and falls onto Louis’ tongue and it snaps back against Harry’s dick. Louis snickers as Harry’s fingers clench tight into their comforter, the snap of the elastic slicing through the younger boy like sin. He eats another, because he can’t help himself, he so wants to see that reaction again, and then allows himself another. There’s about seven or eight candies left on the ring and Louis figures he’ll let them last until they’re through.

  Instead he comes back up to kiss Harry with sugar on his lips and lets the taste of candy swirl into Harry’s mouth, and when he starts to move so he can get to working him open, Harry’s hand comes up to brace the back of Louis’ neck, intending to let the sweetest kiss they’ve ever shared linger on.

  “Wanna fuck you,” Louis mumbles against his mouth.

  “Yeah,” he says, kissing him once, twice more. “Yeah, okay.”

  Louis brings himself back to where his legs are kept between Harry’s, the bottle of strawberry lube sitting beside him before he grabs it, squeezing a dollop onto his finger and spreading it out over and around Harry’s hole. He slicks up three of his fingers, but starts with just one, slowly but surely twisting his way in, bending it after he’s in past knuckle deep. Harry shivers beneath him as he gets used to the prodding and stretching around his arse, pulling on the rim of his hole as Louis takes his time working him open with just one finger.

  “Two, three, Lou—I don’t fucking care, I just need more,” Harry begs, his hips bucking downward to meet Louis as he thrusts his index back in. Louis hums in approval, adding just a second one initially, but just scissors them open and closed three or four times and curling them as he pulls out completely. He braces Harry’s thigh with his other hand, pinching a bit of his skin there as he goes back in with the full three, Harry’s shoulder blades digging into the mattress with the new, fuller contact, and Louis takes it easy for the first few thrusts, before adding any bends or twists to stretch him open. Harry curves around Louis’ slick digits, and he loves it; loves feeling Louis inside him like this, loves it so much it makes him sweat with want for more.

  “I’m ready,” Harry pants, whining at the loss of contact when Louis retracts his fingers, wiping them on his thigh. “Please, Lou. C’mon, fill me up. I want you t—please.”

  “Okay, baby,” Louis assures, coating the length of the vibrator in lube before pressing a strawberry tainted kiss to Harry’s entrance and lining up the silicone to it. He pushes the head in, it’s a bit wider in circumference than what Harry’s used to, so he goes slow, one hand on the power pack end of the dildo and his other pressed firmly on the round of Harry’s arse. “Okay so far?”

  “I can take more,” Harry says, reaching for their headboard, his fingernails finding purchase and probably leaving crescent indents in the wood as Louis gives it a twist as he pushes it further in, right up to about as much of it as Harry can take. He gives Harry a moment to take in the fullness, clenching around it as he gets used to the size. “Okay,” he breathes, opening his eyes in search for Louis’ and holding his gaze. “Okay, I’m good. Go.” Louis gives him a couple of thrusts, arching the silicone cock to get him at a better angle than straight on, before he switches on the vibration. Harry wasn’t expecting it to come on at all let alone that powerful, and he lets a gasp and a noise that verges on a pleasured whine, and his hips beginning to circle around so the vibrator hits him at every angle until, “Oo _oh_ shit— _oh_.”

  “Gonna take you in my mouth,” Louis says so close to Harry’s cock that he can feel his breath on him and it hits him with a wave of warmth that elicits a hiss from him and he moves so the head taps against Louis’ lips greedily, wanting to be swallowed down. Louis’ tongue laps at the crown and he lets his teeth scrape ever so gently down the shaft as he takes him in as far as he can go, feeling the back of his throat contract around his length. He makes up the difference with his hand, his fingers pushing down the elastic at the base and the slightly sticky band drags itself back a bit before bounding back into place so the candies circle his cock.

  Louis glides his tongue down the shaft and sinks his teeth into two of the candies at once, causing it to snap back against Harry harder than before, but before he can react Louis is thrusting the vibrator back up into him and hitting the right _spot_ , and Harry’s hands find Louis’ hair, pulling on a sizeable tuft as he lets a scratchy moan out through barred teeth. Louis bobs down the length again, far enough to feel him at the back of his throat, swallowing around the head and letting his tongue flatten against the veins on the underside and linger there as he comes back up.

  Harry’s legs come up to Louis’ shoulders, his calf pressed against the back of Louis’ neck, and he feels Harry push him back down, red lips stretched around his cock, gagging for it, a couple stinging tears beading at the corner of his eyes as he tries to take him down further.

  Harry doesn’t last much longer after that, with a variety of such potent sensations taking over him at once it’s almost impossible for him to process just what it is that does it for him; the vibration against the inner walls, the head of the phallic toy nudging repeatedly against that very spot, the tight elastic around the base, Louis’ mouth swallowing around his cock, the feel of Louis’ hands on him…it’s all so much and he barely has enough time to give any more warning than a sharp tug on Louis’ hair before he’s spilling down his throat, thrusting up so he’s fucking himself harder into his mouth, collecting fibres from their sheets in the corner of his nails as he grabs on to them for dear life.

  Louis lets him find his centre, lying there while euphoria washes over his skin from the inside out, and finally once his eyes have refocused and found balance in the room and his muscles have laxed, he allows Louis to withdraw the dildo and dispose of at the other end of the bed. He pulls Louis into his arms so their chests are pressed together, and between his legs he can feel Louis, hard and leaking, and leaning a bit so he can add more pressure to his desperate cock.

  “Lou,” Harry says, drawing his attention so he’s able to look him in the eyes. “Go ahead, babe,” and Louis looks at him like a kid on Christmas. How ironic.

  He thrusts himself between Harry’s thighs, which he closes to encase Louis’ cock and provide more fiction. It takes a couple rounds of bucking his hips and snapping them so he’s rutting against the soft, milky skin of Harry’s thighs, but that does it for him. He rides it out between his legs and he’s sinking his teeth into Harry’s bottom lip as his toes curl and his body ceases, shooting out on both Harry and their sheets.

  Dazed, Louis kisses him and says, “Happy Christmas, baby.”

  “Happy Christmas to you too.”

\-----

  “So how should we do this?” Liam asks, a large square box that looks suspiciously like it’s been professionally wrapped, sitting in his lap.

  “Youngest to oldest, just like before?” Zayn offers, to which they all concur.

  “Okay,” Harry starts, holding a rectangular box with perfectly folded corners, taped seams, and a fucking bow wrapped around it. “I had Li. Which, given, was a pretty solid name to draw. Happy Christmas, Liam, I’m your Secret Santa,” he hands him the box and Liam pulls the bow off with precision, unwrapping the gift very slowly and making a show of saving the paper. He pulls out two tickets to and upcoming Kanye West show, and his eyes crinkle as his smile grows beyond his control.

  “This is so great, mate. Thanks!” He chimes, jumping across their circle to hug Harry.

  “Okay, me next!” Niall shouts, tossing a box at Louis. Louis eyes the box carefully, a bit suspicious. He counts, and there is a total of six different kinds of wrapping paper messily taped together and slapped over each other. “I’m the best Secret Santa, you’re gonna love it.”

  “Wow,” Louis says, peeling back the paper and opening the box to reveal a t-shirt that reads _MAN UNITED_ on the front, and 17 _TOMLINSON_ on the back, and it’s been signed by the entire team roster. “Mate, this is so cool, thank you!” And he places the shirt up against his chest to show it off, fist pounding Niall, gratefully.

  “I had Zayn,” Liam announces, handing his package to him with a grin. “Happy Christmas, Zayn.” And what he finds in there is a couple sketch pads, a variety of felt tip pens, watercolour pencils, and about ten different cans of spray paint.

  “This is sick,” Zayn says, looking at the different colours and textures of paint. “Thank you so much, Li. I’ll make you something nice,” he praises, giving Liam a one armed hug and smiling into his neck. He momentarily forgets it’s actually his turn next. Right. “Oh, yeah. Niall, I’m your Secret Santa,” he tosses the gift box to him, and of course, Niall shakes it lightly, trying to guess what it is first.

  “Oh, Zayn. I love you,” Niall says when he first sees the golden yellow pair of Nikes. There are like, three extra pairs of shoelaces in the box too, because nobody has a difficulty keeping laces intact like Niall does. It’s the god damn aglets, he swears. “You know me so well,” he wraps both arms around him tightly as he pulls him into a crushing hug.

  “Happy Christmas big guy,” Zayn says, hugging him back. “Okay Lou, your go.”

  Louis coughs and hands Harry an envelope. He tries as hard as he can to be inconspicuous. Harry pulls out the card and tries not to laugh as he reads, “ _Merry Christmas to the best boyfriend ever. Love S.S._ ”

  “That’s it?” Niall asks, swiping the card from Harry’s hands.

  “Well, there was more,” Louis objects. “It just wasn’t…group-appropriate.”

  “He gave it to me this morning,” Harry adds, smiling, and throwing a wink toward Louis. “And yesterday. And the day before—”

  “All right, we’ve heard enough!” Liam interjects, grabbing the card and handing it back to Harry. He’s pretty sure he sees Zayn gag out the corner of his eye.

  Niall cackles, “Happy fucking Christmas, you fellas are gross.”

  “Happy Christmas to you too,” they say together, and Louis leans in to press a kiss to Harry’s nose.

_fin_


End file.
